


The Boy in Rectangular Glasses

by Scribbleness



Category: Final Fantasy VIII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-01-16 15:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12345348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribbleness/pseuds/Scribbleness
Summary: [AU] Little Squall and Rinoa built precious childhood memories in Matron's nursery school. 15 years (without a lick of word from each other) and 110 pounds later, Rinoa found herself working as a pastry chef for the Lucian palace under her cousin Lunafreya's recommendation. Meanwhile, the ever so lean and slim Squall was looped into a dangerous circle of assassins that had its own political interests toward the future King and Queen of Lucis.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Anything that is not mine, is not mine. The game, the characters, they are not mine. The concept of the story is mine, but the elements added that were not originally mine, are definitely not mine. I hope that's enough disclaimer!
> 
> Author's Note: Hello again! I told you I'd be back with a new fic. Lol This one explores the theme "first love" (I know, cheesy right?) while crossing over with the FFXV universe. That's all I can really say about this! Shoutout to Angel-wings Naya for the push she's giving me! I hope everyone enjoys this one!
> 
> Also, just a little addition to the disclaimer. This fic is not meant to make fun of fat people. Because that would also mean making fun of myself. And I'm heavier than Rinoa in this fic! On the contrary, it's a fic about building confidence and loving oneself, and actually to just do what you enjoy doing the most (even eating! Just... don't overdo it if you love your health, okay?) a development you'll see in the future chapters. So if you are a little too sensitive about fat jokes, I am apologizing as early as now (they are very light jokes and nothing too offensive, I promise). But if you still find this too offensive, then you better stop right here and read the other marvelous fics in this fandom.

 

 

 

Watching the preschoolers play from his favorite corner was a very peaceful technique of wasting away the minutes of recess period. Children were and had always been very, very noisy and very brash. They would shove you without looking, cry when you shove them back, yell at their seatmate as if they were standing from the other side of the room, pooped while they pee…

He honestly didn't know how Matron could keep up and be so calm about it at the same time. He could always ask, but what was the point? It wasn't his job to deal with them. He was content on being left alone while he finished his sandwich and slurped from his juicebox.

Speaking of which, Matron disrupted his musings when he felt her gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Aren't you going to play with them, Squall?" she asked and nodded at the playground just a few steps in front of them.

He shook his head and pushed his glasses up his nose when it slid halfway down. One of the whinier blond kids was pushed by another blond kid and he began pointing his finger accusingly at the latter. Seifer always did that, and he wasn't so surprised. He had always been the school's rowdiest who would push you whether or not you got in his way. First point vindicated.

Matron seemed to have noticed that one when she sighed and shook her head. "I know it can be rough play outside, but that's what usually happens when you play tag."

"I don't really wanna play tag," Squall replied after sipping from his juicebox.

"It can be fun once you're in it," Matron encouraged. "It's a good way of making new friends. Don't you want to make new friends?"

Squall shrugged.

Matron patted his head and brushed his brown hair. "It's going to make the rest of the school year fun if you have friends to spend it with."

"It's hard to be friends with them."

"Well, most of your classmates found friends in their first week of school," Matron said. "It's been two weeks now, Squall. Maybe it's time you head out there and make some friends for yourself."

Squall sighed. It wasn't like he never tried to make friends. Matron may not remember it, but she even helped when she asked each of them to make a short introduction about themselves in front of everyone. He recalled her encouraging him to speak by asking simple questions like "what's your favorite color?" and making him answer to the whole class. Until Seifer mocked him for his choice of yellow.

"Like a pee pee!" he yelled, and everyone laughed. Well, aside from Matron, one didn't. But one classmate was not enough reason to change his mind.

Matron peered at the grassy lawn and Squall followed her gaze. "C'mon Squall. Just try it. Just this one time. Do it for me?"

Squall pouted and glanced up at Matron with the most adorable pair of blue eyes she had ever seen. His mom always told him to be a good boy and to be good to his teacher. Matron was a good teacher, and there was no reason for him to be an impolite and disobedient boy.

"Fine," he muttered. He could feel Matron smiling widely as he rubbed his nose with the back of hand and stood. He carefully trudged toward the battlezone of a playground, approaching no one in particular. He observed one group who invaded the swings, and another that dominated the seesaws even when there was a line of kids waiting for their turn. On the other side was where a group playing jamboree where everyone got a chance to play. The girl who didn't laugh when Seifer made fun of his favorite color seemed to be in charge, barking instructions at the players and demonstrating how it was done. When she straightened up, her long black hair looked like a haystack, and the hem of her blue dress caught a pinch of mud from the dewy grass. He thought about joining them. Their game seemed fun and fair, but there were only a few boys in their group. Two out of ten, to be precise. If he didn't pay a closer attention, he would have mistaken the group as exclusive for girls. Joining them might mean more teasing for belonging to an all-girl clique.

Seifer blocked his view, his arms crossed against his chest. Squall never realized how much taller Seifer really was until he found himself standing face-to-face with him.

"Whaddya lookin' at?" Seifer challenged.

Squall glared at him behind his glasses. "What do you care?"

"I asked you a question first!"

Squall frowned deeper and tried his best to channel the anger brewing inside him to look as mean as he possibly could. He was right. He should've huddled in his favorite corner with no one to ruin his day.

His father always taught him to walk away from fights only if they were not worth it. But Seifer was a bad boy through and through, and he needed to know what kind of boy he was messing with. This was not one of those fights to back out from.

"It's none of your business!" Squall finally spat back, his voice breaking against his throat.

Seifer held his chin up and smirked. "Are you gonna cry now? You a crybaby?"

"I'm not a crybaby!"

"Then what are those waters on your eyes?"

Squall quickly wiped his eyes, slightly moisting the back of his hands. "There are no waters!"

Seifer pushed his shoulder. "Are you sure you're not crying, crybaby?"

Squall clenched his fists on his sides. "No!"

"You're not sure?"

"Stop that right now, Seifer!"

The jamboree girl was now standing between them, her arms spread on her sides and her fiery eyes on Seifer. Flustered at her sudden appearance, Seifer's eyes widened and he stepped back. Even Squall sobered up to see her and realized that everyone around them grew silent. From the corner of his eye, he could see Matron alarmed at the sudden tension among the preschoolers.

"You leave him alone right now!" the girl demanded.

"I was only asking him a question and he wouldn't answer it!"

"That's because you are mean to him!"

"I'm not mean to him! You're mean to me right now because you're taking his side!"

"I'm not being mean to you! You just want to fight with me too!"

"I don't wanna fight with you! Because even when I do, I'm gonna win anyway!"

"And then you're going to prison for that!" the girl retorted with so much bravery in her voice. "My cousin is the princess of Tenebrae, and she can take you to prison!"

"How can she do that if she's in Tenebrae?" Seifer asked smugly.

"She doesn't have to be here to take you, you know," the girl replied. "She can do it in the palace! She can even do it in her room! Because she's the princess!"

Seifer was huffing and puffing, his face burning red. He glanced around the playground where everyone paused to watch them. "Whaddya all lookin' at?"

Their classmates slowly and carefully went back to playing under Seifer's threat. Seifer's eyes then shifted between Squall and the girl when Matron called for him before walking away. He knew he was in big trouble as he followed Matron inside.

Once Seifer was gone, the girl turned around and beamed at Squall. "Are you okay?"

Squall stared at her before looking down on the ground and nodded.

"Seifer plays like that. He plays dirty because he wants to be the best," the girl explained. "You're Squall, right? The boy in rectangle glasses!"

Squall turned to her and adjusted his glasses, eyes round in surprise. He was baffled she knew his name at all.

The girl held out her hand. "I'm Rinoa!"

Squall knew her name. He just never had the reason to use it. He shook her hand anyway, albeit weakly.

"You can call me Princess Rinoa every recess," she told him and pointed at her group playing jamboree. "Those are my ladies in waiting and my knights." She rocked back and forth on her heels. "I only have Zone and Watts as my knights though." She leaned forward and peered at him. "Wanna be my knight?"

Squall met her brown eyes, smiled, and nodded. Whatever a knight does, he wanted in if it meant working for this girl.

Rinoa leapt as a cheerful response and cupped his face in her palms. "I dub thee my knight!"

Squall felt the sudden warmth creeping up his face and froze as he tried in his might to push whatever it was back down, yet was unable to look away even after she let go. She clamped her hand around his wrist and pulled him toward her lowly subordinates. "Today I ordered them to play jamboree with me. I'm gonna show you how and then you can give it a try!"

Squall could only nod as he was being gently dragged toward the first game he was ever going to play since his first day in nursery. "Okay."

* * *

.

.

.

_15 years and 110 pounds later_ _…_

.

.

.

Rinoa was drumming the ends of her pen against the pad of paper on her desk while staring at a table with endless numbers on her monitor. He colleagues knew she was bad with numbers, yet they _persisted_ on giving her tasks that involved numbers when they meant nothing more to her than just another gibberish language in weird symbols.

She took a deep breath and exhaled "numbers" in a whisper as if she could wish it away. She wasn't meant to deal with _numbers_. She never dreamt of it. She wasn't born for this! And yet there she was, working for a large conglomerate of Crow's Nest foodchain, working on finishing a table of numbers or Hyne forbid she'd be stuck in that place forever.

Rinoa glanced at her digital clock. Only three minutes left until she could go home. Since when did three minutes take so long? She shifted her eyes to the people around the office. Everyone seemed to have the same dead eyes staring at their screens and mindlessly typing away. Except for the supervisors. They were happily chatting with each other and laughing at the shallow jokes of the VPs and managers. She swore she could see some of their spit flying and landing on the poor sap who was sitting too close to them.

When the clock finally hit 5:00 and people began to promptly stand up, she shut her computer down, gathered her things, and slithered out of the office with no one, thankfully, taking notice (or else they might call her back to follow up on the damn table or worse, give her more things to do).

Rinoa flowed with the influx of the working class into the train station and fought to board the next train. Inside the airless, congested car, she held her breath until they reached the next station where many people unboarded. She hurriedly walked toward the nearest available seat when a teenager hastily took it. She beckoned at another teenager who cramped herself next to her friend. Rinoa looked at them in disbelief and when the first teen caught her eyes, she gave her a scolding look.

"That was supposed to be my seat," Rinoa muttered as she turned away.

She heard one of the teenagers giggle. "If she got this seat before we did, she would take two!" she whispered.

Rinoa narrowed her eyes at the stinging words and clenched her fists when both of them started to giggle more audibly behind her. She started counting numbers in her head to calm herself down before she could punch their faces and give them two reasons why this would be the worst day of their lives. One, she knew she was a little over the recommended weight for her age and height, but she was _definitely_ not big enough to require two chairs to sit. And two, it's extremely rude to make fun of someone's size, especially of a woman's. She had to remind herself over and over that they were just stupid teenagers raised by probably equally stupid parents.

Her stop couldn't come any faster, and she quickly left without looking at anyone. Her legs were beginning to tire from standing for too long, and her stomach was protesting from all the walking. She headed to one of the station's stores and the clerk tipped his head at her as soon as she entered.

"Hey Rinoa," he greeted in his usual gruff voice. Finally, a friendly face.

"Hey Takka," she greeted back while glancing at his shelf of sandwiches and pre-prepared dishes. "You got anything new?"

"Nope, not today. Supplies for my mushroom melt didn't make it today, so you're stuck with the usuals." He lifted a brown bag from his counter. "I took this one aside just for you. Turkey ham sandwich, just how you like it."

Rinoa looked up and smiled at the older man. She took the bag. "Thanks, Takka."

"No problem."

She began rummaging through her bag. "How much do I owe you?"

"It's on the house. I promised you I'd give you something new today. Besides, you look like you could use a fresh sandwich."

Rinoa pouted and shook her head. "Oh, Takka. Let me pay you for this one."

Takka held up his hands and shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. Maybe next time."

"You mean tomorrow?"

Takka chuckled. "What about you snuggle up in your favorite blanket and enjoy this one with a cup of green tea?"

Rinoa grinned. "Green tea," she repeated. "I've been drinking green tea for five years now, and I'm still nowhere near my target weight!"

"I see no nothing wrong about your weight," Takka said. "Besides, you wanted to be a pastry chef. You are bound to gain weight if you're going to take that profession seriously."

"But you didn't gain weight. You never did!" Rinoa replied, motioning her arms at Takka. Despite being the cook of his own eatery, he never gained a pound and the taste of his food was never compromised. Men his age were growing bellies and necks, but not Takka. He was still as thin as she remembered.

Takka chuckled. "You may not notice it because you see me everyday."

Rinoa sighed. "Look, you can convince me all you want, but I will never believe you. This isn't getting anywhere." Rinoa smirked and began walking to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Takka."

"Take care out there and stay with the lights!" he called back.

As Rinoa strolled inside the station, she began unwrapping her sandwich and took a bite. Only a few strides left and she'd reach her exit, but not before passing by her favorite pastry shop. She could see its warm orange light glowing more brightly than the others and she started to slow down. She stood in front of its glass window where its name "Whisk and Whip" was decaled neatly and gazed at its beautiful display of intricately designed confectioneries. She immediately spotted her current favorite cupcake with a small Moomba molded in fondant and detailed with frostings. She studied the cupcake and began to imagine how the chef did it with constant mixing, kneading, and airbrushing to achieve the colors and gloss on the figure. Not to mention the taste of the butter rhum cupcake the moomba was standing on the shop was best known for. She was able to taste one of those once, and it was more heavenly than people held it for. Staring at it now almost made her enter the shop to buy one and remind herself of how good in baking she had always aspired to be, but the calories she would gain in exchange was stopping her from stepping any closer.

"No," she told herself. Enough calories for today. No more sweets.

"Would you like to try our butter rhum cupcakes?" The girl in a fancy maid dress interrupted her disciplinary meditation with a welcoming and friendly smile.

"Oh, uh," Rinoa stuttered for words as she glanced back and forth at the window display and the girl. "You know what, I've tasted this before and I've had my fair share of cupcakes that could cover the rest of my life." She looked down at her stomach then back at her. "As you can see."

"Oh, but we have a day end sale at 50% off!" The girl cheered, further pushing Rinoa at the brink of temptation. "It would be a waste to miss it. Imagine getting two cupcakes at the price of one!"

"You know what, I'm in!" Rinoa said and hurriedly brushed past the girl and into the shop. Screw her weight. Screw her diet. She lived to eat! Besides, she could take it as one of her taste-testing missions that give her something to aim for!

* * *

Or not.

She finished two cupcakes before she could reach her house, leaving her with four more in the box. She gorged on them without even studying the taste components that she had planned in the first place. That maid girl was a spawn of the devil, existing only to ruin her diet and ruin her life! She had just finished her sandwich too, to help neutralize the sweet taste of the cupcake, and the amount of food for one night had too much calories that she lost count. And now she was reaching the stage where guilt was starting to sink in and mutating to become a regret. Why oh why does it feel so good to eat!

Rinoa dragged her feet until she reached her townhouse. She glanced up at the place as if to double-check and huffed while glancing at the mailbox. Instinctively, she opened it and hitched her breath when she spotted a lone envelop inside. She immediately took it and read its sender.

"Culinary Institute of Deling"

Letting out shaky white puffs, Rinoa hurriedly tore the envelope open and pulled out the letter before unfolding it and scanning for the words she was looking for.

" _Sorry to inform you_ _…_ _All the best and goodluck on your ventures._ "

Rinoa frowned and let out a long exhale. "What?"

And then she read the letter from the start.

" _Ms. Rinoa Heartilly,_

_Good day!_

_We thank you for taking the time and opportunity to apply in our good institution, and we are greatly honored to be among your considerations with regards to your training in the arts of culinary and baking. However, we are sorry to inform you that your application is not among the shortlisted by the members of the Academic Board of the Culinary Institute of Deling._

_We hope that this letter finds you well, and that you would regard our message considerably._

_All the best, and goodluck on your future ventures._

_Jhill Nabaat,_

_Admissions Head of the Culinary Institute of Deling_ "

She tore her eyes away from the paper and felt her heart drop. Why would they reject her? Was there something she didn't do?

Was it something she _did_?

She recounted all the things she went through two months earlier during her application: she double-checked the forms and requirements before submitting them and asked the registrar incessant questions about it (she remembered the poor woman being so patient about it as she tirelessly answered all her inquiries), she called the school to follow-up on her application, she submitted the essay they asked her, and arrived for the interview an hour before the scheduled session with the flower cake they told her to bring (and spent the whole night working on!)

Rinoa cast her eyes down and let out another huff. She lazily stomped her way up her porch and unlocked the front door where her Border Collie Angelo greeted her with her "I've-been-waiting-for-you-what-took-you-so-long" jump and whimper. Rinoa gave her a small smile and knelt down to pat her head.

"Hey Angelo," she sighed. Angelo seemed to understand her despondence and eyed her with her glossy round puppy eyes. Rinoa tucked her lips to a side. "I didn't get into my dream school. Guess they didn't want me so much."

Angelo let out a soft growl in response.

"Thanks," Rinoa replied, assuming her dog actually told her it was fine. Because that was what she would have told herself. What her cousin Lunafreya would have said.

Rinoa fished her phone from her pocket and sat on the floor while Angelo laid by her side. She began typing.

_Luna, still awake? CID rejected me._

She sighed again and looked around at the dimly lit house. It was just her, Angelo, and the sulking pain of rejection that was relentlessly filling the room. She needed air. She needed space. She turned to Angelo.

"Hey buddy."

Angelo's head perked up and looked at her.

"I'm gonna head outside for some air. You coming with me?"

As if she understood her, Angelo panted, stood up, and headed to the door.

Rinoa chuckled and followed her. "You know what, sometimes I forget you're a dog." She unhooked her leash from its hasp and opened the door again, leading Angelo out.

The night had gone chillier at 7:00 and she could see the white puff escaping her lips at every breath. Angelo didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, she seemed to be enjoying the weather, using her energy to pull Rinoa the opposite way from where she was supposed to go.

"Angelo!" Rinoa scolded. But Angelo wasn't having any of it. She pulled Rinoa until she realized she was successful at doing so. She then stopped to face Rinoa with a proud panting, seemingly content at domineering her master with her dog wishes.

Rinoa grunted and rolled her eyes. "Fine. Just this once."

Angelo barked once and waited until Rinoa reached her and began walking by her side.

"Why did you lead me this way, buddy?" she asked Angelo. "Wanna go somewhere in particular?"

Angelo whined in response.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked herself this time, glancing around. It wasn't like she was lost. She knew the place like the back of her hand and she knew where to go and how to get there. She skimmed through the places in her mind. "We have the coffee shop, but I bet it's about to close soon. The bookstore with ancient books. The Timber Maniacs. The Barkin' Bones isn't this way, so we can't go there. The park. The school…"

She paused. Matron's school, the only place the held her most innocent memories. She hadn't gone there since her nursery year ended. The last time she passed by it was two years ago and she saw how it withered down over time, which only pained her to see. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember seeing Matron around the place lately. She usually met her buying fruits at the market aisle of the nearest town, making small conversations with the vendors with her husband. Rinoa would greet her and always asked her how she was doing (she would always reply that she was still teaching at the same nursery). Her husband (wasn't his name Cid?) was just as nice and friendly too. And then, they just disappeared.

"How about we see my old school?" Rinoa said. She could already imagine the swings, the seesaw, the soft grassy ground, the monkey bars… they could very well be just as fun as she remembered.

"Let's go see my old school. What do you say?"

Angelo barked once.

"Okay, good idea. Let's go there. Maybe you'll find something new to play with."

Gripping more tightly around Angelo's leash with her newfound vigor, she lead her eight blocks through from her house while the anticipation quickly bubbled inside her. Would there be anyone there to greet her? Or maybe it would be better if there was _no one_ inside. They might call the cops on her for trespassing! But this was one of those whims which she knew would be worth anything no matter what because she deserved it, and she deserved a little fun. Besides, she had gone through enough bad luck to reach her daily quota. It couldn't _possibly_ get any worse.

"Happy memories," she mumbled when they finally reached the school of her childhood. Angelo was bouncing uneasily on her paws as she made a round on her spot, distracting Rinoa momentarily from noticing how old the place had grown. The once orange-painted walls were now peeled in huge patches, the door was unhinged halfway, and the windows had cracked holes from what she could imagine rocks thrown by young delinquents.

"Huh," she breathed. Not too colorful as she remembered. So much for happy memories. At least no one was going to shoo them out. She took a deep breath and pushed the gate carefully as if it was going to fall with slight force. It swung open with relative ease and without the creaking noise.

"See," she said, looking at Angelo. "That was easy. I'm getting lucky already."

She looked around, daring not to enter the indoors but to follow the light around the back where their od playground should be. When she reached the lawn, she realized that the lights didn't come from the streetlights like she had initially suspected, but from the outdoor lights attached on the fences.

"Weird," she said. "Why would anyone turn on the lights with no one around?"

Rinoa's eyes then darted to the ground. Despite the desolation of the place, the lawn was still as green with the grass as she remembered.

"Whoah…" she said, ogling at the refreshing sight. "Well-trimmed, too."

With Angelo still by her side, she wandered to the newly painted swing and surveyed the other parts of the playground. The seesaw and the monkey bar were still there, the sandbox empty but all cleaned up, and the fences were also fresh with paint. Someone had been clearly taking care of the lawn, but neglected the school. Maybe, whoever it was, was taking it one step at a time?

"I wonder who…" Rinoa whispered. She walked to the center, still not letting go of Angelo, and sat on the ground. The grass felt dewy beneath her from the chilly air and the green scent filled her nose. It was better than the spa or food hopping at the train station. When Angelo laid beside her, everything instantly felt perfect. It was _exactly_ what she needed.

Rinoa felt her phone vibrate inside her pocket and read Lunafreya's name on the screen. She swiped it to open the message.

" _I regret hearing what happened to your application. I know very well how much you wanted to enter the prestigious institution, and how great joy, dear cousin, your acceptance would bring you. I intended to call you, if only I am not presently in a gathering with the Lucian King and Prince. I had to ask their permission to be excused to I may fleetly send you this response. I shall contact you in the morning so we may be able to discuss this matter more freely_."

Rinoa sighed. Classic Lunafreya, always prim, proper, polite, and loyal to archaic language.

"She could have just texted 'I'm so sorry Rinny! You did a good job anyway! Can't text right now but am gonna call you tomorrow!'" she spoke to herself, emulating her more hyper self with Lunafreya's Tenebrean accent. "Seriously Luna. She can sometimes be so melancholic, doesn't she?" she added and faced Angelo. She sighed again, puffing another round of white smoke from her lips and began brushing Angelo's fur when she felt her companion tense.

"Don't sit on the grass."

Rinoa jumped at the sudden sound of a deep voice behind her and quickly turned around. A man clad in black suit no older (nor younger) than she was towered right next to her and shooting daggers behind his rectangular glasses.

"S-sorry?" she managed to stutter.

"You're crushing the grass," he replied, now more apprehensive.

Okay, that was crossing waaay beyond the line.

"Excuse me?!" Rinoa quickly stood up and heard Angelo beside let out a low growl. The man was even taller when she was standing, and his glaring blue eyes glinted against what little light they had. Even when they were half-hidden behind his short and unruly brown hair.

"How dare you!" She admonished as she tried to match his glare and placed her hands on either side of her waist. "What are you trying to say, huh? Say it to my face!"

"What do _you_ want me to say?" he challenged.

"Whatever's on your mind!"

The man paused and narrowed his eyes. He shook his head before turning around. "Keep off the grass and get the hell out of this place."

"Why? Are you suddenly the owner of this place? I know the owners, and I'm sure as hell neither of them is you!" Rinoa retorted, pointing an accusing finger at him.

The man looked over his shoulder. "That's none of your business," he replied, his voice stern and solid.

Rinoa gasped. Had she heard that somewhere?

"W-wait!"

The man paused just as he was closer to the lights.

"I… uh…"

The man looked over his shoulder. "What?" he said impatiently.

"T-turn around!" Rinoa exhorted.

"Why?"

"So I can see your face!"

He didn't flinch for several seconds and she swore she could feel him thinking. Finally, his shoulders fell.

"Fine."

Rinoa held her breath when he turned back around to face her. And from the distance he made between them, she was finally able to study him for what he really was – tall, lean, definitely handsome, but not so friendly. Yet there was something so familiar about him, about his glasses, the color of his hair, his eyes, and his disposition. The only thing that was giving her doubts was the scar lined diagonally between his eyebrows.

But she couldn't be mistaken. It was him. It was definitely him.

"The boy in rectangle glasses…" she whispered.

His brows dug deeper and his face now annoyed.

"You're the boy in rectangle glasses!" Rinoa exclaimed, as if she had just figured out a million-gil question.

"Well will you look at that. She figured out what I'm wearing on my face."

"Don't play with me!" Rinoa berated. "I know you! You were my playmate at this very school! With Matron!"

The man stiffened, his expression unchanging. He fixed his eyes on Rinoa.

"I knew your name! I just…" She began to flick her fingers repeatedly and her eyes wandered to her side and then to Angelo for answers. "Who is he.. What's his name…."

The man scoffed and began to turn back around. "No point wasting my time here."

"Squall!"

The man paused again, his back now on Rinoa.

Rinoa's victorious laugh barely escaped her lips as she clicked her finger once more at the man. "That's your name! Squall Loire!"

She waited for Squall to acknowledge her and admit his defeat, but he never did. "Remember me?" she asked instead.

He didn't reply.

"Huh…" Rinoa puffed, disappointment flooding over her. "Guess not. I mean, look at how you've grown. And…" she said glumly and her eyes downcast. "Look at me."

"Rinoa."

Rinoa's eyes perked up, and so did Angelo's.

Squall looked over his shoulder. "Rinoa Heartilly."

Rinoa let out a long exhale as she watched Squall walk farther away and out of the lawn and, presumably, the school.

 


	2. Touchdown Insomnia

Rinoa jerked against her bed at the ringing of her phone and shot her eyes open as the langour in her head began to settle into pain. It didn't help that Angelo began barking at her bedside table, surprised at the sudden noise as well. Rinoa grunted as she reached for the table and blindly felt the surface until she could grab her phone.

It was Lunafreya.

Rinoa huffed and placed a free hand on her forehead as she answered it. "Mmm'ello?"

" _Hello? Rinoa?_ "

"Do y'know what time it is?"

" _I'm sorry, I know I must have awakened you._ "

Rinoa grunted and followed with an irate "Yeah…"

" _I apologize for causing you such inconvenience, but Prince Noctis has made a suggestion and I couldn't contain my excitement!_ "

"I'll say. You woke up early just for this."

" _Oh, it is safe to say that sleep was the last matter in my mind. I really must inform you what could be awaiting you here in Insomnia!_ "

"Insomnia?"

Just then, Rinoa's alarm went off. She excused herself to turn it off, shaking her head at the realization of her lost minutes of sleep. This better be worth it.

"What do you mean Insomnia?" she asked again.

" _Well, you see, Prince Noctis took notice of my unease last night because of the regretful news of your application for CID,_ " Luna replied. " _He asked what ailed me, and so I told him. He made a proposition to welcome you here to work as one of his pastry chefs._ "

Rinoa shot up. "What? For real?"

" _Yes! There is not a brush of doubt in it! Of course, that is, if you would consent–_ "

"Are you kidding me? Of course I'd consent!"

" _I'm delighted to hear it! I shall tell him first thing later. He had also made plans of a room here for you, and–_ "

"W-wait, hold on, a room?" Rinoa asked, shaking her head. "Luna, I'm not going to live in there with you."

Luna paused from the other line. " _Why? Is it wrong?_ "

"No, but, I don't know! I mean, I guess it isn't wrong if the Prince himself said it, so _you_ tell me! I just…" Rinoa exhaled. "I just feel like it's wrong to, how should you put this, abuse his kindness."

" _Oh,_ " Luna replied at the realization. " _I am certain he doesn't mind._ "

"We say that now, but I'm no royalty to require space in a palace just because I'm working in Insomnia," Rinoa said. "Look, don't get me wrong, I'm really, really stoked about working for the palace. Like seriously, this is waaay better than CID! But I think it would do me better to move into a separate apartment or something."

" _I… understand,_ " Luna replied with slight despondence. Rinoa could imagine her cousin planning sleepovers and (tamed and formalized) slumber parties at the prospect of them living together under the same roof. Not like she wasn't either.

"Buuut, that will still mean I'm going to see you more often, right?" Rinoa said in her attempt to cheer up Luna.

" _Yes, and I am very much looking forward to it! And there will be nothing to stall us from doing so! Your job as a pastry chef will ensure it!_ "

"Wow, pastry chef," Rinoa repeated, savoring at the dream job she was about to get. She quite liked the sound of it.

" _Yes. It was suggested that you may begin as an apprentice_."

"You mean an intern."

" _Yes, under the guidance of Sir Ignis_."

"Wow, so is that like, one-on-one culinary class?"

" _As it would appear, yes_."

"How about my current job?"

" _Oh, please heed no trouble about it! I shall personally arrange a letter from the Prince himself for your current employer._ "

"Oh okay," Rinoa shrugged. "What kind of letter and when is it coming?"

* * *

"So it appears your presence at the Lucian Palace is being 'decreed by the Crown Prince himself,'"

Mr. Shinra lifted his icy scrutiny from the letter and peered at the frozen Rinoa sitting on a chair across his table. She couldn't tell if he was impressed, _un_ impressed, in disbelief, or lost in an alternate reality where he expected a cameramen to pop out and exclaim "YOU'VE BEEN PRANK'D!"

Rinoa gulped as her eyes darted nervously between the letter in his hand and his stern face. "Uhm–" she cleared her throat. "–that is correct, Sir."

"And you are going to be the royal pastry chef."

"I will start as an intern, but–" she paused when his apathetic stare remained unblinking. "–yes."

"Since when did you know about this?"

"This morning, actually," Rinoa said. She didn't know Luna would send the letter _that_ fast. She would have a word with her about real-world employment rules and what the phrase "two weeks notice" means.

"And I presume His Highness told you?"

"My cousin did."

"And what does your cousin have anything to do with the Crown Prince?"

"My cousin is Lady Lunafreya. She is Prince Noctis' fiance," she replied. She added the second bit more as something that was tailored to Luna's name since her engagement. She began to fish for her phone in her pocket. "I can call her if you want more–"

"The letter was delivered by a Kingsglaive in a royal car," Mr. Shinra said. "I don't need any more evidence than that."

Rinoa relaxed on her seat. "Ah." Is this what really happens when a Princess gets too excited? Royal bodyguards become mail people?

Mr. Shinra finally blinked before looking at the letter again. "My primary concern are the deliverables that will be left in your wake, but I suppose this is something that is beyond my power. Though I must say this is one of the most sudden resignation notices I ever handled. They usually happen with forced resignations, termination, or death."

Rinoa pursed her lips and nodded. "I understand, Sir."

Mr. Shinra nodded and landed the paper on his desk. He cocked his head toward her cubicle. "You may pack your things whenever you are ready. Send me and whoever's in HR a formal resignation letter for documentation. And goodluck on your venture."

 _That's it?_ Rinoa thought. After seven months of working for the company, that was all the formality he was going to give her? She forced a smile anyway and bowed slightly.

"Thank you, Sir," she said before taking her leave.

Rinoa spent the rest of the day cleaning up her desk and dumping all her supplies into a recycled box provided by the kindly (but despicably cheeky) HR people. She tried to ignore the curious stares of her officemates, but she felt watched just a tad too much that she had to pause and look around them at least once just so they'd know she knew. It may not show, but she was glad to be out of that life-sucking place, and having no office friends made leaving even easier. She sealed her disconnection with Shinra once she got into a cab and pulled the door shut.

Luna told her to give her a call once she made it home, which she did as soon as she pushed her things into one corner of her living room. Angelo gave her a leap and an inquiring look for coming back too early.

"That's right, I'm back," Rinoa said and patted Angelo's head. She took out her phone and dialled for Luna.

" _Rinoa!_ "

"Hey Luna. So, I'm home, and–"

" _Did I cause you inconvenience at your office? I hope the letter I sent was adequate._ "

"Oh it was adequate, alright. It caught my boss off-guard! I seriously thought he was going to _kill_ me."

" _I hope it was not too intrusive. I am aware of how much you dislike that place, and I only wanted to take cursory actions to help you. If it caused you great inconvenience, I am sorry._ "

Rinoa sighed. "Don't worry about it."

Luna hummed. " _You must be exhausted._ "

"Not really."

" _If it is not too much, will you allow us to drop by tomorrow morning to gather your effects? I shall personally accompany the royal retinue to see you._ "

Rinoa smiled. "I'd love that, but you don't have to. I think I can manage."

" _Oh, I see. Huh?–_ " Luna was momentarily distracted by a male voice in the background. "– _Oh. Indeed._ "

"Huh?"

" _Rinoa, Prince Noctis insists that we provide you assistance to move your personal effects from Balamb to Insomnia. He anticipates the great distance you must trek to arrive here._ "

Rinoa's eyes widened. "Oh?"

The man from the background, whom she presumed to be Prince Noctis, said something more loudly. " _And he stated, in his own terms, 'royal orders,'_ " Luna added.

"Oh. Well, that can't be good. I think I don't have much say in it. If His Highness insists..."

Luna giggled. " _Indeed!_ "

"Alright. What time are you coming?"

" _9:00._ "

"That early?!" Rinoa protested. She looked around her house. Her unwashed laundry was scattered on the couch, used plates still in the sink, and her only vase housed wilted flowers. "My house is a mess!"

" _Oh, but there shall be no need for you to unclutter your house. A housemaker will be travelling with us._ "

"Fantastic. I hope she loves cleaning. My house will be a dream come true."

Luna giggled softly. " _I must excuse myself for correcting you, cousin. But the housemaker is a he._ "

Rinoa raised an eyebrow. "A 'he'?"

* * *

"Good morning!"

Rinoa's jaws dropped at the godly sight that was the alleged housemaker who greeted her with the same sophisticated accent as Luna's and hit her with a scent of old spice. She felt her mouth water and her throat dry as he slithered smoothly into her living room and pushed his geometric glasses up his nose as he studied the interiors of her house.

"There is much work to be done around here," he said.

Rinoa swallowed and shook her head slightly to cut her ogling. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Not to worry. I brought help with me," he said and gestured at a few people outside to come in. He faced her again and bowed slightly as a form of courtesy. "May I?"

"Sure, please, by all means," she replied nervously. Rinoa watched as his helpers began their work. She faced the man again. "Thanks, uh…"

"Ignis," he said. He narrowed his eyes in thought. "I believe we've made our introductions just now."

"Oh," Rinoa laughed nervously. "I might have missed it, ha ha!"

"Rinoa," Luna called from the front door. Rinoa turned around just as Luna reached her for a hug.

Rinoa tightened her embrace and smiled. "Hey Luna."

Luna pulled away and beamed at her, complete with the sunrays gleaming her features and her golden hair from her back. "It has been a long while."

"And you are still skinny!"

Luna let out a gentle laugh and shook her head. "Not having the pleasure of enjoying your carefully concocted dishes has made me so!"

Rinoa playfully slapped Luna's forearm. "Oh shush! You're pulling my leg!"

"I wouldn't dare think of it!"

"Excuse me Lady Lunafreya, young miss," Ignis interrupted. "I would like to know if Ms. Heartily's belongings are ready to be boarded into the truck."

"Oh, that's right, yeah," Rinoa nodded, trying not to stare too much at Ignis. "Let me get them."

"There's no need for that." Ignis turned around. "Prompto!"

A blonde man with a kindly face and pale skin jumped from the group. "Yo!"

"A moment, please?"

Prompto bounced his way to them, brimming with the friendliest smile Rinoa had seen in a while.

Ignis waved an arm toward Rinoa. "Prompto, I would like you to meet Ms. Heartilly–"

"Just Rinoa, please," Rinoa said.

"Hello!" Prompto reached a hand to shake hers. "Nice to meet you! Must run in the blood, huh?"

"What is?"

"You look just angelic as Lady Luna!"

Luna giggled as she watched Rinoa blush. She wanted to pay the compliment back by telling him how he could easily dazzle anyone just as Ignis had, but her words were somehow trapped in her throat.

Ignis clapped his hands together. "Well, now we have set our pleasantries aside, I must excuse Prompto to help out in carrying your things."

"Sure!" Rinoa turned around and scanned the place while Angelo walked from the kitchen to Luna's side, prompting Luna to kneel and pet her. "Maybe you can start with my room?"

"Gotcha!" Prompto winked and scampered up the stairs.

"Thanks!" Rinoa called after him. She then hitched a thumb behind her. "And I'm gonna go gather my other things."

Ignis tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "What other things?"

Rinoa was already heading toward the kitchen and looked over her shoulder in response. "My most valuable things."

Luna smiled as she watched Rinoa close boxes of kitchen wares and glanced up at Ignis. "My cousin is most passionate about her trade."

Ignis nodded. "I see. Then I daresay we share many similarities already."

* * *

When Luna told her they would be heading to the Citadel, Rinoa was imagining a church-like structure with an altar inside and pews for onlookers and pilgrims. She found it strange how the royalties of Lucis would opt for something so small and so… unpalace-like.

Until she _actually_ saw it.

It wasn't a Citadel, not by her standards at least. It was a palace, and a kingdom of its own by the size of it. Rinoa gaped at the marvel of the state-of-the-art castle from behind the windows of the car and wondered if people really lived in the place.

"Do you sleep here?" Rinoa directed her question at Luna.

"As of the moment, yes," Luna replied.

"Just looking at it makes me feel like a princess already!"

"As I have mentioned to you this morning, you are more than welcome to live with us."

Rinoa thought for a moment before turning back around. "No. That's okay. I think a decent apartment will do it for me."

"His Highness would certainly not mind should you choose to stay with us," Ignis said.

"Which reminds me–" Prompto added, shifting on the passenger's seat to face them. "–how are you two related again?"

"My beloved mother– may the gods bless her wherever she may be– was a cousin of Rinoa's father," Luna replied.

"Would that also make you a royalty?" Prompto asked, pointing a mindful finger at Rinoa.

Rinoa shrugged. "I guess. I thought about it, but never really considered myself a royalty. I mean, I was never really raised as one like Luna."

Luna nodded. "It is safe to say we consider the title as a responsibility, one that Rinoa is not necessarily obliged to fulfill."

Prompto's lips stretched to the sides. "Yikes."

"That's very harsh to say," Ignis said.

Luna gave a soft laugh. "Noctis would understand."

Rinoa glanced at the top of the grandiose staircase and saw a man standing in waiting for the guests. If he was the King, her cousin's future father-in-law, the man the whole of Lucis answers to, then there was no way mistaking it. He wore black eminent clothes with metal adornments and a cape made of pristine fabric that shone even under the meek sunlight, and the regal way he carried all of those spoke royalty. He smiled with comforting warmth as he watched them climb their way up and opened his arms when they reached him.

"You must be Rinoa," he said as he gestured at her.

Rinoa tried to repress her labored breaths and nodded. "Hello."

Luna bowed from her right. "King Regis."

Rinoa gasped and darted her eyes between Luna and the King. "Oh Hyne!" She bowed frantically. "I'm so so sorry for the lack of respect, Your Majesty! I mean, please, this is the first time I've ever– uh– met your Grace!"

King Regis chuckled and placed a gentle hand on top of her head. "Please, don't be a stranger. Luna is a daughter to me. Any family of hers is a family of mine, too."

"Dad, would you be so kind not to overwhelm her?" a younger man disrupted from behind the king.

"Dad?" Rinoa looked at the other man who was in much more casual clothing, also in black. There was a theme they followed in Insomnia, as it would seem. Everyone wore black, save for her and Luna. But this guy dared to be as casual as it could get around the King _and_ called him "Dad"!

Rinoa whirled at the guy. "You're Noctis?"

"Prince Noctis," Ignis corrected.

"Or Noct," Prompto added.

Noctis smiled and bowed slightly. "Yep, that's me! Glad to finally meet you!"

Rinoa bowed again just as frenziedly as before. "No, no! Pleasure is all mine!"

Noctis chuckled and bowed lower. "Seriously, though! Been looking forward to meeting you!"

"Please take care of Luna!"

"I will!"

King Regis smiled at the two and placed a hand on Ignis' shoulder. "I wish for our guest to settle well at her new workplace."

Ignis bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

King Regis nodded and faced Rinoa who promptly straightened up. "Please make yourself at home. I hope you're hungry."

Rinoa laughed nervously. "I really don't know what to say!"

The King tilted his head slightly. "Why so?"

Rinoa looked at her cousin for help. Luna only nodded in encouragement. "I should be doing all the cooking, and now you're offering to feed me, and I can't refuse!"

Kind Regis and his son looked at each other then laughed. King Regis waved his hand dismissively to regain his composure. "I can already tell you'll like it here," he said.

* * *

.

.

.

Squall watched from the upper floor of a coffee shop as the gates of the palace opened and a convoy of two cars and a truck entered the premises. The walls towered the view and the entrance was surrounded by men in the most sophisticated uniform a commoner like him had ever seen. And beyond the boundaries was no longer known to him.

He felt his phone vibrate and answered it without looking. The silence from the other line validated his conjecture.

"Confirming my location in Insomnia," he said before placing his phone back.

He took another bite of his tiramisu and after deciding that it tasted like paper no matter how much of it he had consumed, he downed it with the last of his coffee that had turned cold and stale. He stood up without making any sound and strode down the stairs leading to the exit of the cafe. He adjusted the collar of his coat around his neck as he glanced around the street, wary of the people walking by. Tourists, or something close from what he could make out of their enthused explorations of the area that was in closer proximity to the palace and their constant necessity to take photos with their oversized cameras, had filled the place with their obnoxious (and unnecessary) chatters and predictable choices for photo ops. He started to head the opposite way from the palace, blending himself into the flow of the crowd until he was free from their suffocating presence. When the horde had gone thinner, he turned a corner where the less populated shops were lined. He trudged by as quickly as he could until he caught something green from the corner of his eye. He took a step backward and turned his eyes at the window where garden tools and seeds were on display. Squall searched the window for the name and found it in tethered paint.

"Marlboro's Corner"

He turned away, searching for his second conscience who was supposed to stop him from entering. Granted he needed some of those tools, but he also had to be somewhere else.

Squall sighed and shook his head. Maybe it won't have to take too long.

He entered the shop and headed straight to the garden tools section. He reached for one of the smaller cutters and had his eyes next on a weeder. Though he already had one, it had gotten blunt from using it too many times against the humid weather in Balamb.

"Can I help you?" the oldest of the male staff asked in genial manner.

Squall frowned as he looked at the two tools in his hands. "Not sure for now…"

"Okay, son," the man nodded. "How big is your garden?"

"Just a lawn," Squall replied.

"Ah." The man nodded and began to browse through the other tools on the shelf. He pulled out a large shovel. "You already have one of these?"

Squall shook his head. "It's just a small lawn. It's unnecessary."

The man nodded. "I see. How small is this lawn?"

"It's a lawn for preschoolers. Not very big."

The man pointed at the weeder in Squall's hand. "Don'cha think that one's too small?"

Squall glanced at the weeder silently. It really was difficult to work with it on a considerably sizeable area of stubborn dewy grass. No wonder his old one wore out so easily.

"Maybe this one will make things easier for you," the man suggested as he turned around to reach for something from one of the bigger shelves. He returned with a device that looked like a thin vacuum cleaner. "Here," he said, handing the thing to Squall. "Weed trimmer. Uses thirty-six-volt lithium-ion battery. Will do the job for you while you take a walk around your lawn."

Squall placed his weeder down and took it. He examined the electronic version of the trimmer in his hand like it was a new weapon.

"If you take it, I'll give you seeds of sylleblossoms for free. They are native only in Insomnia and Tenebrae. They will make a nice addition to your lawn, and the kids will love them!"

Squall shrugged.

"You'll see, you'll see," The main said, waving a finger at him as he turned around to make his point. With the weed trimmer still in tow, the man headed to the cashier as Squall followed.

Minutes later, he was outside carrying the box of the disassembled tool and a bag of flower seeds, just as the old man had promised. Squall was careful to avoid the few passing shoppers from colliding with the unnecessarily large box, swinging it swiftly and gently to his sides as he slipped by. The sun was already painting orange in the sky and there was some distance to be travelled back to his place.

When he reached an alley, he caught glimpse of a male figure in white, and he knew he should deal with him. He just had to take the box home first.

Footsteps behind him began to follow his when he reached an empty area. He kept walking anyway until he saw a safe corner for his box just beside a dumpster. He paused on his steps just as the cold wind blew through his coat, and the footsteps took on a halt as well. Looks like his attempt to postpone his dealings with an unexpected patron was futile. He slowly headed to the dumpster and carefully placed his purchases down.

"Didn't expect to see you here," his stalker said with a hint of sarcasm.

Squall looked over her shoulder nodded in courtesy. "Almasy."

Almasy took a bite from his hotdog then pointed it at the other. "Leonhart."

"Leon," Squall corrected.

Almasy scoffed and grinned. "Leon," he repeated with a hint of contempt.

"Suprised you're still not used to it–" Squall said, feigning cordiality. "–Seifer."

Seifer sneered as he crumpled the hotdog wrapper in one hand and tossed it aside. "You gotta give me credit for using my real name even after all this time in the business."

Squall's brows furrowed deeper in his storming scowl as he turned around to face the other man.

"What are you here for, Leonhart?"

"None of your business."

Seifer narrowed his eyes and jerked his head to a side. "Wow. You outgrew your real name, but never your catchphrase. Haven't found one yet, Leon?"

Squall tilted his head as an apathetic nod before taking his glasses off, folding them carefully before sliding them into the pocket of his coat.

Seifer's grin fell the moment Squall freed himself from his glasses. He had seen that gesture too many times, and he knew what it meant. He waved his hand to his side where his gunblade materialized from blue wisps of sparkles and aimed it at Squall, only to be met by Squall's own weapon also pointed at him.

"I guess you'll tell me the only way you know how," Seifer said.

Squall crowed against his throat before dashing forward and clashed his sword with Seifer's. Seifer parried his attack and drew his gunblade up, slicing the wind just inches away from Squall's shoulder. Squall sidestepped and swung his blade to shove Seifer away.

"Are you here to kill the Queen, Leon?" Seifer challenged, his voice rising.

"She's no Queen," Squall spat back.

"And your King is no King yet," Seifer retorted.

Seifer jumped and thrusted his feet against the brick wall of one of the apartments to propel himself toward Squall. Squall twirled his gunblade upright in one hand and positioned it before himself to blocked Seifer's attack, pushing him backward and digging his heels on the ground from the impact of the collision.

"Let's just say we pay no interest to your King," Seifer hissed in a mocking tone. "Not his reign, not his power, and especially not his life."

Squall narrowed his eyes under his deepening glare. "You can try to show your mutinous disinterest to the future King," he gnarled as he pushed Seifer away. "Your future Queen can dare, too."

Seifer landed gracelessly and dragged the tip of his blade against the ground to regain his balance. He shot Squall a deadly glare. "Don't you lay a finger on Lady Lunafreya!"

"Then tell her not to do anything to screw up Prince Noctis."

Both men were about to strike each other again when they were promptly stopped by the roaring sound of an approaching motorcycle from the opening of the alley.

The undiscerning delivery boy thought he heard an echo of a swooshing sound from the alleyway and casually glanced at it. Nothing unusual, he thought, as he scratched his head through his spiky blond hair and accelerated forward. Just the dumpsters and occasional trash on the ground, as always. But at the back of his mind, he knew he heard something. Or someone.

It was definitely someone.


	3. First Steps

_"Aren't you gonna eat that?"_

_Rinoa tore from her mac 'n cheese, sandwich, and chocolate milk and looked at Squall. She hadn't touched them yet since the start of recess period, and they were already making her mouth water terribly. She shrugged._

_"I dunno. Maybe just a little?"_

_"Maybe just a little?" Squall repeated dubiously._

_Rinoa squeezed her arms together to her lap and cast her eyes down in bashful bearing. Squall didn't like the unease he could read in her eyes. He knew she wanted to say something yet couldn't bring herself to. But by golly if he didn't like watching her do it the way she did. He diverted his gaze from her and scratched the back of his neck to conceal the blush creeping up his cheeks._

_"My dad said–" Rinoa paused and peered at him curiously. "Squall?"_

_Squall bit his lip. "Hmm?"_

_"What's wrong?"_

_"Huh? There's nothin' wrong," he shrugged, lapsing through his words. "What made you think something's wrong?"_

_"You're looking away."_

_"Oh. I am?" Squall turned his eyes back on Rinoa. "There. I'm looking now."_

_Rinoa took a breath. "Well, I was saying, my dad said I'm getting fat."_

_Squall's eyes widened. "Fat?" he repeated. Did her dad need to get those thick glasses to fix his eyes? Because he clearly wasn't looking hard enough. "You're not fat."_

_"Well, he did say I'm getting bigger. And I will end up like Quina if I eat too much. He said Quina prepares me fatty food so she won't be fat alone."_

_"So what if you get fat?"_

_Rinoa took a sharp glance at Squall._

_"You heard me," Squall asserted. "Doesn't matter if you get bigger. As long as you eat and you like what you're eating!" He nodded at her lunch. "Don't you like mac 'n cheese?"_

_"I do!" Rinoa piped. "But…" she began, her eyes falling down her lap again. "My dresses won't fit me anymore."_

_"Then we buy new ones!"_

_A small smile grew across Rinoa's face and she giggled. "That's true!"_

_"C'mon, Rinoa! Eat!" Squall encouraged._

_Rinoa nodded and began to reach for the sandwich. She blinked a few times before hesitantly retrieving her hand._

_Squall tilted his head and frowned. "What's wrong?"_

_"It's just, I'm really scared I'll end up like Quina. Daddy said it was why she didn't have any man who like to be with her. Because she's fat! And–" she cautiously looked around before leaning toward Squall, shielding one side of her mouth with her hand as she whispered, "–ugly."_

_Squall pulled his head back and chuckled. "It can't be that bad! Maybe she just wants to stay that way! My dad said people like her are called shingles, and it's their choice!"_

_Rinoa eyes widened in horror. "But I don't want to be a shingles!"_

_"Then don't!" Squall said. "You won't ever be ugly, even if you tried! Even when you get fat!"_

_Rinoa beamed at the newfound hope that was Squall. "Really?"_

_Squall nodded and returned the smile. "Really! And I mean it!"_

* * *

.

.

.

Well, so much for being fat and not single.

Rinoa stared at herself in her underwear through the mirror, landing her eyes on the middle regions. Her stomach looked like two bulging mountains, and her thighs were forming saddlebags that featured layers of pure shockproof fat. That dinner with the royalties was a feast for just one night, and she briefly wondered how the rest of them maintained a slim physique even after eating just as much as she had.

Then again, who, in the right mind, wouldn't gorge last night? Not with all those never-been-taste, never-been-seen gourmet lined up in front of them. Not to mention the dishes Ignis personally prepared for the occasion, which didn't fall short from royal standards.

Last night was really a feast for gods and kings. And now was the time for lowly mortals and heathens to pay for it… in calories.

Rinoa caressed her stomach and sighed. She used to be worried about not getting the boyfriend of her dreams– muscular, protective, smart, handsome, didn't have to be rich but ambitious enough to get there, and nice. And yet she found herself in a desperate position worrying about not getting a boyfriend at all. Worse, she was definitely dwindling in confidence, repeating the cycle of how it was all unfair how her body was different from Luna's or Noctis, or even the aged King Regis! She was born and made to get fat much more easily.

And maybe it was about time to do something about it.

She slipped into her sleepwear and rummaged into one of her unpacked boxes until she felt a notebook somewhere. She sifted through the pages before bringing it to her desk. After grabbing for a pen from her purse sitting nearby, she began writing.

Day 1

Rinoa paused. How much did she actually weigh? She could check, but she had to dig deeper through her things first, and she was scared to know. No matter…

Approximately 145 lbs

That sounds about right.

Target weight: 110 lbs

"35 pounds to lose," she murmured to herself. She pursed her lips and glanced at Angelo who was laying on the floor. "Can't be that hard, can it?"

Angelo's ears briefly perked up to contemplate on her question before looking away.

Rinoa closed her notebook and headed for her bed. The journal would give her something to commit to, at least. She would log her weight everyday until she reached her target. Maybe also in time for Luna's wedding. Hopefully. Now wouldn't that be grand.

She paused again in front of her mirror and studied herself. She didn't actually look all that bad with clothes on, not like the abomination she would normally imagine of herself. But it was exactly that same mentality that made her neglect her size in the first place. No more of that, she promised herself. It's time to get serious about this diet thing.

* * *

Arriving at the Citadel was starting to become more familiar, but there was something about the sight of it that still made her heart skip a beat. She made the taxi drop her on a corner two blocks away under the security conditions of the palace, and walking the whole distance immediately made Rinoa regret her decision on denying Luna's offer for transportation from her apartment. Long walks in the morning was never her piece of cake, especially on days like this.

One of the stationed guards promptly opened the smaller gate for her before she could tell him anything more. She nodded a "thank you" and entered the royal premises. Nobody was waiting for her this time, and she took a hesitant glance at the guard who stood still and in attention away from her. Assuming that they were expecting her arrival anyway, she marched forward to the eternity they called a staircase and heaved as she turned the knob of the grandiose front door which opened by itself. Well, not technically by definition of "by itself," but a butler or something like that was waiting from the other side, pulling the door open for her. She smiled gratefully at the man while letting out another exhale with an audible "Whoo!"

The man offered to take her coat and she thanked him for the second time. She looked around, observing the black tiles that gleamed against the streaming morning light, and the carefully crafted sculptures adorning the matching furniture, door frames, and the pillars. A place with pillars where people actually lived. She allowed herself to sink that in and began to wonder if it really was something to call home, or was it more than just a home where the residents had to work around all days in a week. It was a palace, after all. Was it unfair to think that it was not the kind of home she imagined for Luna?

"Do you need assistance in locating the kitchen?"

Rinoa twirled to face the butler. "Oh, no, it's alright, I know where the kitchen is. It's–" Rinoa glanced around the place, facing three hallways and pointed at left one. "– right there! I mean, left hallway!"

"It's the one in the middle, Ma'am," the butler said tonelessly.

Rinoa let out a shaky giggle and a nervous smile. "Oh. Right." She began heading to the direction he advised and stopped in front of the elevator, shifting her eyes between the up and down button.

"The kitchen is in the third floor, Ma'am," The butler called out.

Rinoa snapped her head at him, impressed at his sharp eye for her lack of direction more than anything. And to think Ignis and Luna had already given her a tour of the place last night! She waved back at him after pushing the up button. "Yep! Thank you!"

Arriving at the third floor meant opening the doors to yet another maze. Rinoa huffed at the halls and groaned. She ran through her memories of the night before and tried to navigate where Ignis and Luna lead her. She considered dialling for Luna and cry that she was lost like a child who was abandoned and lost in a grocery store, until a familiar blond head peeked from the right hall.

Rinoa let out a sigh of relief and headed his way. "Prompto!"

Prompto made a salute and grinned as he began walking toward her. "Hey Rinoa!"

"I was beginning to worry I lost the kitchen!"

Prompto chuckled and pulled her into a hug.

Rinoa oofed and yelped when he suddenly lifted her from the ground for a more ultimate (if there was such a thing) hugging experience. "Don't! I'm too heavy! Too heavy!"

Prompto laughed and brought her back down. "No you're not!"

She backed away as soon as she was free and placed a hand on her chest as she caught her breath. "Don't do that again! You're going to hurt yourself!"

Prompto raised a brow and shook his head. "Nuh-uh! I'm too strong for that!"

Rinoa could only laugh her doubts. She wanted to taunt Prompto for choosing to deny the obvious, but she didn't want to offend him.

Prompto hitched a thumb behind him. "You headed for the kitchen, right?"

Rinoa nodded. "This place is a maze!"

Prompto chuckled and shrugged. "You'll get used to it!"

Rinoa looked down when she caught herself staring at him. Hyne, this man is adorable.

She followed him to a more familiar dining room and further in until they reached the kitchen which was devoid of a human soul.

"Where are the cooks?"

Prompto looked over his shoulder. "Oh, culinary cooks have their own kitchen. This one is reserved only for bakers and pastry cooks. They only come in the early morning for bread and desserts of the day, unless when called or there's an upcoming celebration or something like that."

"Such is royal life, I guess."

Prompto lead her to a long metal table and pointed at the utensils resting on top of it. "So, Iggy took out all the things you need. Said something about making a lafaustis. Sounds more a nightmare salad than a dessert if you ask me, but what do I know?"

"Clafouti," Rinoa murmured as her eyes scanned the blender, mixer, baking trays, cups, spoons, and all baking tools she could ever possibly need neatly lined up like precious displays in the museum. She carefully picked one up and examined it. Top-of-the-line brand, too.

"Wow."

Prompto nodded. "Yeah. Wow. Iggy never settles for less, you know?"

Rinoa recoiled her head and coughed a laugh. "Heh. That's a lot of pressure."

Prompto stepped back and held up his hands. "T-that's not what I meant!"

Rinoa giggled. "Oh, I know."

He finally relaxed. "But don't worry! He'll be easy on his apprentice, I'm sure."

Rinoa widened her eyes at him. "You're sure?"

"Well, yeah! I mean…"

"Have you ever tried learning from him?"

Prompto nodded excitedly. "For sure! So we went camping one time, and he let me watch him cook his 'new recipeh'!"

"But did you actually cook while he was watching?"

Prompto opened his mouth with a finger pointing up and paused. He retreated his hand and looked away with a hint of shame. "No."

Rinoa's breath hitched and turned back at the utensils. She never used to be this nervous before, not even during her tedious practical exam in her summer baking class. Hell, she didn't have proof on what kind of teacher Ignis was going to be! But for some reason, failing once would sound humiliating on top of what other personal issues she had.

Unfit and unpretty Rinoa was also incompetent at the only thing she knew doing.

"Rinoa?" Prompto called with a tone of slight worry.

"Oh," Rinoa said, shaking her head to place herself back in the real world. She took a deep breath. "Sorry. First day fright."

Prompto smiled a sincere one. "Just chill. Alright? Luna loves your cooking. I'm sure Ignis will learn that soon enough."

"I'll have you know that my cousin actually has a weird taste with food."

Prompto stepped back. "Whoah, really? How weird?"

Rinoa shook her head. She wanted to tell him that one time her creme brulee melted into a gooey texture, and even then, Luna enjoyed it more that the later version when she finally made it right. "Just… weird."

Prompto sighed. "Okay, look, nothing has happened yet. Whatever it is, I know you'll be fine. Because Ignis will know better than to make things hard for you. And if he did, they you'll be just as good at baking as he is, or maybe even better! Either way, you'll be the best pastry chef there is!"

Rinoa smiled, unconsciously parting her lips slightly as she listened to Prompto's optimism. He was right. So she nodded. "Yeah, that's true!"

Prompto's smile grew wider and he clapped his hands together. "Great! Good talk! So all that's left now is Iggy!" He waved his hand at her to stay on her spot. "Wait here, I'll go get him."

Rinoa nodded. "Sure," she replied as she watched Prompto walk away and out the other door. She then glanced around the room, her new workstation where she won't have to sit all day and type numbers. She would be walking around and working fast separating eggs, whisking flour, measuring flavors, and decorating pastries! Suddenly, a newfound thrill washed over her. She was finally going to bake!

She heard a faint blow of air when the swinging door opened smoothly for Ignis. He strode gracefully toward her in his usual crisp polo, coat, slacks, and leather shoes. Rinoa looked over herself. She was in her casual loose shirt, jeggings, and rubber sneakers.

"Good morning, Rinoa!" Ignis greeted.

Rinoa felt her cheeks warm, though she wasn't sure if it was because she still wasn't used to seeing Ignis' godly sight, or was it because of the fact that she was severely under-dressed for her first day of work.

Ignis's forehead creased as he looked at her. "Is there something bothering you?"

Rinoa pursed her lips and shook her head. "I… uh… I just thought we are going to bake."

"Indeed we are."

"Oh," she nodded, her eyes traveling across his attire.

Ignis seemed to have picked up her dubiety and looked over his choice of clothing. "Ah, yes, I always work in these. Comfortable, and prepared to face anything and anyone. Not to worry, I am also used to working around the kitchen in these."

"Oh," Rinoa shrugged. "Okay. Well, I brought my chef uniform with me." She lifted her tote bag as proof. "Should I begin changing?"

"If you so wish," Ignis replied and gestured toward another door on their right. "There's the locker room. You may change inside."

Rinoa bowed and began to take steps backward closer to the locker room. "I'll be quick!"

Ignis smiled at her. "Please, take all the time you need."

Rinoa clocked herself to finish in five minutes, just a reasonable amount of time to make Ignis wait. When she finished securing her apron around her waist and tying her hair in a netted bun, she stepped out and hurried to Ignis' side who was now without his coat and his sleeves rolled up his arms.

Ignis turned to her. "Are you ready?"

Rinoa nodded. "Yes."

"Good. I'll have to inform you first the pointers of working in the Citadel," he said, rocking on his heels to his sides as he prepared his spiel. "As an apprentice, I advised you to come in at ten o'clock in the morning because the cooks assigned in the baking kitchen, in which where we are now, finish at nine thirty. Their grind time is six o'clock in the morning everyday, unless stated otherwise. They have to be done baking breads and pastries for the day by nine o'clock, just in time for breakfast. Once you have graduated in this apprenticeship program, you are going to be part of the team and will be working in those hours as such. Are you still following me?"

Rinoa nodded. "Yes."

"Now, King Regis and Prince Noctis have simple tastes in desserts. Lady Lunafreya, however, is fond of sweets, for which I am sure you know about."

Rinoa smirked. "Yes."

"She has opened new doors and possibilities for the King and the Prince, and as such, I am compelled to challenge our pastry chefs to make something that will surprise them. Discerning that they have worked here for so long of a time, I am inclined to encourage fresh talents that might capture the appetite of His Highness and Majesty, and also Lady Luna."

Rinoa raised her eyebrows and dipped her chin. "So, you want me to come up with never-been-made… stuff?"

Ignis nodded. "That is correct. I could have done it myself, but I have other priorities as Prince Noctis' Retainer. And as I have understood, you are passionate in your trade."

Rinoa's eyes diverted to a side in thought before returning to him. She nodded. "Of course."

"Of course," Ignis repeated. "But first, I must teach you everything I know in pastry-making. And at the end of our five-month training, maybe you can whip up with a recipe of your own."

"That'll be great."

"Still under my guidance, that goes without saying. And quite possibly the other cooks' and the chef's as well. You will meet them soon enough."

Rinoa nodded. "Can't wait."

"Good," Ignis said. "We are going to make a clafouti. The recipe may be intimidating at first glance, but it is quite easy to make."

Rinoa knew the dish, and she wanted to contend his claim. Clafouti was one of the more challenging dishes out there. She should know, it was one of Luna's favorite from Altissia. When she found out, she wanted to surprise her by baking one for her birthday. She failed miserably after five hours of working on it when the pastry didn't puff and ended up becoming a loose, wobbly slack. If that was his standard of easy, then she would be in for a long, hard ride.

* * *

Squall was leaning against the entrance of the train station, his figure blending through the flood of exiting passengers as his ears were filled by the music from a resident violinist performing at the opposite side for spare change. He looked at his phone.

" **He's in this one** ," it read.

Squall didn't glance up until he saw a figure approaching from the corner of his eye. Even then, he didn't look. He turned around and began walking out of the train station as they both blended with the hurrying crowd, taking a turn until they reached an alley. Squall leaned his back against a wall, and pushed his glasses up his nose before slipping his hands into his pockets.

The other man took a last peek along the street and looked around the area before turning back to Squall. He rubbed a hand clean against his coat and reached to Squall for a handshake.

"Hey man, I'm Zell," he said.

Squall peered at Zell's hand, glanced up at him, and then looked back down. That was strike one, he thought. The guy seemed too friendly and trusting even to people like him, even when they were in vulnerable places. Taken aback by Squall's lack of regard for pleasantries, Zell withdrew his hand.

"So Quistis told me we're on a mission, and said you'll be–"

"Never talk about the organization outside the Circle," Squall cut in.

Zell paused and watched as Squall finally raised his eyes to look at him which were neither friendly nor apprehensive. Zell shut his lips, almost pursing them into silence. The other pushed himself away from the wall and straightened his posture, his chin up and overweening. He got himself a talker, and he was beginning to hate Quistis for assigning Zell to _him_ , of all people. She was probably up to something, he thought. She had always been hounding him to talk more while reasoning that his silence was bothering her (as if it was her business), so she was either subjecting him to the same annoyance he was inadvertently giving her, or to an environment where he was expected ( _not_ encouraged) to speak.

He carried on anyway. "The more you talk about it, the more you risk the chance of exposure and discovery of the Circle. Which brings us to the next rule."

"Which is?"

"Never get caught. Because no one is going to save your ass."

Zell gulped and adjusted the collar of his shirt around his neck.

"If you don't want to get caught, then you have to always make sure to finish the job. Clean up after yourself, or you will be eliminated in place," Squall said.

Zell hummed against his throat and forced a nod, hoping he looked more serious that way.

"If you got those right and you make it far enough, make sure to never look for the Godfather."

"Right," Zell murmured before asking in his voice that almost croaked. "Aaand the godfather is the man on top, right?"

Squall nodded.

Zell cleared his throat before speaking again. "Right. Have you... met him?"

Squall shrugged. "Probably. Never knew. Never asked."

Zell's eyebrows rose. "Oh."

"And for your own good and interest–" Squall began to turn back around and walk further into the alley. "–never use your real name outside the Circle."

"Will that have any bearing?" Zell asked and hurried to Squall's side.

"Maybe."

"If that's up to me to decide on, then can I choose to use my real name? I mean, I wouldn't mind being called goldenpuss or chickenwuss, but that's the only freedom I get to have from the Circle, right? With all those rules and stuff. Can't let them get my name too, can I?"

"That is up to you," Squall said nonchalantly, never halting on his steps. "But whatever happens to your missions, the rewards, the consequences, will be tied to your name."

"Consequences. Great," Zell said, defeated. "Fine. I'll think of something."

Squall almost shook his head at Zell's indecision. At least he was convinced to change his name. It could save his life as it saved _his_ for countless times. There would be no use on a dead assassin. He had to understand that it was not about giving up their names and submitting themselves to a new identity as a sign of their loyalty to the Circle. No, not really. Their names were much more than that.

"So if we're not allowed to talk about _anything_ …" Zell mulled, his voice lowered and took a pause as if waiting for an answer.

"Keep your mouth shut and follow me," Squall said.

And shut his mouth he did.

Zell tried his best to memorize the landmarks of the crown city just in case he found himself lost in the massive labyrinth. And with the way his guide was going, he knew the guy wouldn't be around all the time, and would never, in any speck of his being, give him a tour of the place. And so he observed that they passed by areas that were either flocking with tourists, or through soulless alleys. That was another lesson he learned about being an assassin in the Circle – blend or disappear.

They reached an apartment complex that didn't look new by any means on its exterior, but classic and expensive inside. The receptionist, a well-built gentlemen with dark skin, bowed at them in greeting behind his marble counter which was only met with a knowing glance from Squall. Zell nodded at him a few times wordlessly.

After passing by a few floors in the elevator, they exited into a hallway and walked further until they reached Room 589. Squall tapped his card on the knob to unlock it and the two entered.

The apartment's floor was clear save from a few pairs of boots, shoes, and slippers lined neatly on one side. The rest of the clutter such as papers, mugs, and empty plates were on the coffee and dining tables. Throw pillows on the couch were not arranged in their places, and a blanket was almost (but not quite) reaching the tiled floor. Tall, glass windows were concealed behind blinds as expected, and he caught sight of a few more closed doors. The apartment was too spacious for one person and felt a little lonely, but otherwise warm and well-lit.

"Gotta say, this is a nice place," Zell commented. "You alone?"

Squall shrugged. "Just me."

"Just for this mission?"

"Just for this mission."

Zell approached a chair in the dining area and gestured at it. "May I?"

Squall nodded and sat opposite him.

As soon as Zell settled on his chair, he propped his arms on the table. "Maybe now's a good time to talk about the Circle? Got some few questions like, is Quistis even Quistis? And where do I get to sleep? Because Quistis said you'll arrange it for me."

Squall frowned in distaste. Damn Quistis making him do more of her chores.

"Uh… You mad, dude?" Zell asked cautiously. He knew he was treading on a thin line. "Was it something I said?"

"To address your first question, affirmative. Quistis is Quistis," Squall replied with all the composure he could muster. "She usually works closely with the Godfather behind the lines in the headquarters, so there is no reason for her not to use her real name. And for your second question, I was not informed about the assignment, so I will allow you to crash here _just until_ we find you another apartment in this complex."

"Can't we explore other, err, complexes?"

"This one is more well-hidden than most, and has an affiliation with the Circle. So we can discuss matters of the mission in here more freely."

"Speaking of missions, Quistis briefed me on what's going to happen and why we're here. But I still don't get it."

 _Why am I not surprised_ , Squall thought. "What's not to understand?"

"Basically, all I caught was for one, guard the Prince at all times. Two, no funny business from the Princess. And three, don't let the Princess take the throne. I mean, the first one, sure, no problem there. Though doesn't the Prince has his own battalion of bodyguards? But anyway, my understanding is that, if we lose the Prince, we're dead. The second one, what does she mean by no funny business from the Princess? She's going to become a Queen after the wedding! She gets half of the decision her King is going to make once they're married! That's the rule of marriage! Like, amiright?"

"I wouldn't know."

"And the same goes with the throne! So where do we step in? How–"

"It's not as simple as that."

Zell paused and rose his eyebrows. "Uh, okay?"

"You haven't been watching the news, have you," Squall said as he eyed Zell under his scrutiny. "World war is brewing with how the Niflheim and Lucis are going as we speak. Their rift never died since it started a hundred years ago, and it is not faring any better now despite King Regis' efforts to make amends, even going as far as welcoming Nifs into Lucis. Courts of the international affairs are becoming cautious of the growing hostility between them, and their solution? Wed the heirs – Prince Noctis and Princess Lunafreya. But some orders, like ours, see all of this differently. Princess Lunafreya can be easily manipulated into taking over the Prince's throne. She does that, and it's over for us. That's where we come in. We make sure it doesn't come to that. And we have to do whatever it takes to secure the Prince to his throne and his rule over Lucis."

Zell gulped. "Whatever it takes? Even…"

"This is why we are sent here to do the job." _Moron_.

"So… this all leads to my underground contact?"

"To infiltrate the Citadel," Squall said. "Before the other Circle makes their move that may cost us the Prince."

"You mean the Circle from Niflheim?" Zell asked, searching for confirmation more than anything. "The one that is after the Prince like we are after the Princess?"

Squall shot him a look and tilted his head for being dumb enough to ask the obvious.

Zell nodded and raised his hand slightly. "So I have another question."

Squall was getting impatient. "What?"

"I… didn't catch your name. Quistis didn't tell me anything except _you'll_ tell me your name yourself."

Squall took a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on Zell. "Leon."

"Is that your real name?"

"What do you think?"

"Err…" Zell's eyes fell. "No."

Squall almost slapped his palm on his face. Hyne, why was he left to deal with this guy?

"So I get to pick my own alias, right?"

"Just make sure not to forget it."

Zell slammed a fist on the table. "Why you–"

Unflinched, Squall replied "Careful. Or you'll end up on the streets."

Zell narrowed his eyes and relaxed as he looked away in defeat. "Sorry."

A moment of silence passed between them (which Squall took as his much-needed break) before Zell spoke again. "I pick the name Tidus."

Squall raised a brow. "Like the blitzball player?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask? Can't I have the same name?"

"Your call."

"Great! You're Leon, and I'm Tidus!" Zell said and began bouncing his leg against the floor as he looked around in thought. He looked back at Squall. "So, when do we start?"

"Quistis sent you. So _you_ tell me."

"Right. So we're supposed to meet the contact tomorrow at thirteen zero zero. I told Quistis that it is the soonest as we can get, so we gotta wait. I've had past interactions with the her, and she's a little cynical so I gotta come with you. I can't assure anyone that she'll like either of us," Zell said, slightly smirking. "But if she does, she can get us a job in the Citadel, and we're in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think in the comments! Thank you!


	4. Unlikable Start

**Disclaimer:** Anything that is not mine, is not mine. The game, the characters, they are not mine. The concept of the story is mine, but the elements added that were not originally mine, are definitely not mine. I hope that's enough disclaimer!

* * *

It was a disaster.

The clafouti looked worse than the first time she tried baking it many years ago. What was supposed to be the filling of the cake melted into a grisly goop that flowed over the baking pan. She held a deep breath and closed her eyes as Ignis observed her work beside her. She couldn't look at his face. And even if she was brave enough, she knew it wouldn't be something her precious morale could handle.

Ignis' voice made a sound against his throat. It wasn't amusement, nor approval. It was anything but good.

"Well, that was…" Ignis mulled and fought in his head to find the right word. "Surprising. At the very least."

Rinoa peeked from her one eye and watched as Ignis studied her failure with his chin resting on his fingers. She too was fumbling for words. Something _must_ be said.

"Uh…" She trailed.

Ignis clicked his tongue and smiled. "No matter. We can always try again."

Rinoa let out a long exhale. At least he wasn't judging her. Not right up her face anyway.

"I'll have the ingredients arranged for tomorrow so we can at least suppose which part went wrong."

"Everything," Rinoa mumbled.

"Sorry?"

Rinoa shook her head and sighed. "Look, clafouti is not really my piece of cake, but I promise you I can bake something good!"

Ignis kept nodding to encourage her. "Mmhmm?"

Rinoa's eyes wandered in the air. "Like… like…"

What was she good at?

"Cupcakes, perhaps?" Ignis suggested.

"Yes! Wait," Rinoa placed a finger on her lip in thought. "Well, I guess. I get lucky with making it moist in the middle sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

Rinoa eyed Ignis with half assurance. "Yes."

"Maybe some macaroons?"

Rinoa gasped and her face lit. "Maybe!"

Ignis smiled in relief.

"Though…" Rinoa placed a finger on her lip again. "I might be better at toasting them."

Ignis frowned. "From the oven?"

"Well… yeah?"

Ignis sighed. "Then perhaps it is ideal that we return to the basics."

Rinoa flashed her eyes at him. "Basics?! No! I've been through the basics and I know how to bake!"

"Something easier, then?"

Rinoa bit her lips. "Well, I do make a mean creme brulee."

"Ah, finally, we're getting somewhere!" Ignis replied genially. "Creme brulees take time to create, but they are very much worth the wait. I shall prepare the ingredients for the dessert instead for tomorrow's session."

"Tomorrow?" Rinoa repeated. She couldn't wait until tomorrow to try it out and show her true prowess to Ignis. She glanced at her watch and realized that it had been well past five o'clock. Ignis must have spent too much time on her instead of attending to more important things for Prince Noctis, only to waste his hours on a complete failure. She sighed. "Yeah. I guess it could wait until tomorrow."

Ignis seemed to have caught her disheartenment and tried to requite it with a small smile. "First times are always the hardest, not with all the adjustments it would require you. But I must tell you that you may relieve yourself of any worries pertaining to me."

"Pertaining… to you?"

Ignis nodded. "Yes. I can feel the unease reeking from you. If I didn't know any better, I would say you were nervous."

Rinoa hung her head and twiddled her toes against the ground. "No, not really."

Ignis chuckled. "As you are now."

"Oh," Rinoa looked away, her cheeks burning.

"Don't fear of what I will think, Rinoa. If judgement got the better of me, then I will fail as your teacher. Thus, a failure to my King. So fret not, I will guide you through. And I will take it upon me to train you into a fine pastry chef."

Rinoa's eyes almost watered at the dedication he showed. She nodded firmly. "And I won't let you down."

Ignis smiled warmly. "I am glad to hear it." He smacked his lips apart and looked away. "Now, I must go back to his Highness' office and help him attend to his duties. I'm afraid he has quite the tendency to forget his deliverables. As for you, Princess Lunafreya must be in her chambers this time around, if ever it comes across you to visit her before you leave for home."

Rinoa nodded. "I might hang around a little longer if she isn't busy. But–" she sighed and looked at Ignis before bowing. "–I am very grateful for your patience and consideration. It really means a lot."

Ignis bowed in return. "Oh, please, no need for this. I am simply doing everything I can to help."

Rinoa bowed again, lower this time. "Please, there's no need to be so kind to me. I'm beginning to think I don't really deserve it."

Ignis matched her bow. "It's my pleasure to give you all the kindness you deserve, and more."

Rinoa giggled and straightened up. "Maybe we should stop bowing, lest we break our backs."

"Right," Ignis agreed, bowing slightly. "Well, off we go. I shall see you tomorrow."

"Yep! Thank you!" Rinoa waved before turning away.

Ignis watched her as she walked out of the swinging door. He huffed and smiled to himself before walking to the opposite direction.

* * *

.

.

.

They found themselves outside again – him following Zell through the smaller streets under the shadow of Insomnia's afternoon sun. The latter lead him further into one of the city's many alleys and turned to one building that had a few steps at the front. He knocked on the door and a rectangular hole opened where a pair of eyes peeked.

"What do you want?" the man asked.

"The Lady of the Dragons," Zell replied.

The man paused.

"She looped herself into the cycle," Zell added. Squall noticed the man's eyes narrowed.

Zell smirked a little too friendly. "May we come in now?"

The man grunted and slid his peephole shut. The pair heard heavy gears turning and the door (revealing itself to be made of thick metal) finally opened. Zell glanced at Squall and nodded before they both entered.

The first thing Squall noticed about the place was how it smelled strongly of nicotine. He didn't care to look closely at the blurred images of men who stood hidden from lit part of the shadowed hall. And at the end of the hallway, there stood a man in what seemed like a corporal uniform, waiting by a door. He scanned Squall wordlessly before turning to Zell and nodding. He pushed the door open and lead them in. Squall didn't realize how loud the noise was outside until the man shut the door behind them.

Zell glanced around the room. Papers, bottles, and things he'd rather not give a closer inspection littered the bare cemented floor, surrounding the long desk standing in the middle of it all. It didn't surprise him at all, given the welcome they saw just outside the door. But it was not something he'd expect from the alleged "Lady" of the place.

He turned to the man and shrugged. "Where is she?"

"She couldn't join ye," the man replied. "She told me teh tell ye she's doin' another job."

Zell swayed an arm. "We have an appointment!"

The man shrugged. "She told me 'at if ye protest, to tell ye 'at a girl's gotta earn to eat. She also said to kick ye out if ye protest more, so ah suggest ye two sit doon so we can ge' doon to business."

Zell and Squall looked at each other before looking back at the man. The latter gestured at the two chairs before sitting on the one behind the desk. After shifting to make himself comfortable, he propped his arms on the surface.

"So, whit can we de fur ye?" he asked.

"We need a job at a Citadel," Zell replied.

"A job?"

"Aye, a job," Zell said, almost mimicking the man's accent. As if he realized it, he cleared his throat and repeated his reply. "I mean, yeah. A job."

"Why?"

"We were sent by our agency–"

"Ye mein th' circle?" the man interrupted.

Zell shrugged. "We can neither confirm nor deny. But anyway, we were sent to ensure the safety of Prince Noctis."

"An' ye need te crack some bones in th' palace while at it?"

"That's the order we're given. Getting a job is the best insurance we got."

The man smirked. "Noble cause ye got there, eh? Ah cannu' say it's not sketchy, but definitely risky."

Zell pulled his head back and a crooked smile formed on his lips. "We– uh– thanks?"

"An' it has te be ye two?"

"We'd like that."

The man hummed against his throat and narrowed his eyes. He peered at Squall. "Nah, Ah can only entertain a body."

Zell's brows rose. "A-a body?"

"Yeah, a body."

Looking back at the man, Squall frowned.

The man pointed a finger at Squall. "Ah dorn't loik ye."

Zell's eyes widened. "What do you mea–"

"You don't have to like me," Squall intercepted without looking away from the man.

"Ah dorn't?

Squall lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head to a side to confirm his response.

"Ha! Yoo've got a tongue fur someone who needs me mer than Ah need ye!"

"We were sent to ensure that the crown doesn't fall into the wrong hands and that it stays with the Lucis bloodline," Squall said. "Failure to do so may bring Insomnia down, and everyone with it. This job does not require you to like me. It only requires me to keep the future King safe, which I assure you I _can_ do. But if you fail to take a chance with me, then you can only have yourself to blame if something you don't like happens to the Prince or the King just because I wasn't there."

A grin slowly grew on the man's lips as he observed and contemplated on the truth and threat of Squall's words. He chuckled by the end of Squall's spiel and nodded. "Noice try. Am impressed," he said. "But nae–" he cocked his head at Zell. "–Ah will only send heem in."

Squall nodded once. "Very well."

"WHAT?!" Zell yelled. The man jumped on his seat at the height of Zell's voice.

Squall turned to face Zell and shrugged. "Guess it's up to you now."

Zell's eyes widened as he glanced between Squall and the man who were both looking at him. When the futility of defeat caught up with him, his head fell on his lap and his frustration betrayed him in a grunt. "Fine. _Fiiiine._ And I thought I'll have Leon to give me orders and make it easier."

"You already have your order," Squall said. "Don't screw up."

Zell grunted again.

The man reached for a drawer under the desk and pulled out a form. He slid it toward Zell. "Here's an application f'rm. Fill everythin' in it an' I'll han' it te' th' Lady wi' mah recommendation. She'll tak' care of everythin' from hir'."

Zell sighed as he pulled the paper closer and scanned through the page. His forehead began to crease when he reached a section. He looked up at the man. "A gardener?!" he asked in disbelief. "Dude, really?!"

"Ain' nobody calls me anythin' but Biggs, loon! An' aye, a gardener. That's th' only job we got fur ye. Got a problem?"

"I have never taken care of a plant in my life!" Zell cried. "The King is going to off my head when I kill all his plants!"

"Then giv' it beck."

Squall shook his head and pressed a hand on the form. "We'll take it."

Zell whirled at Squall with a face so frightened as if all the hopes and dreams he had envisioned for his life had left him.

"It's better than nothing," Squall told him, maintaining his cool composure. "We are thankful we even got something."

After a moment of pondering on his next words, Zell groaned and began scribbling on the form. "Ah, crap. What did I get myself into."

* * *

"That looks lovely!"

Rinoa smiled as she watched the creme brulee mixture began to sizzle inside the oven. Lunafreya was also crouching beside her, marvelling at the dessert as it danced inside the ramekins. She began to remember how it tasted the first time Rinoa baked one for her. The taste of its success was unforgettable, despite how many times her cousin claimed it was a failure.

And now she would have the pleasure to taste it again.

"How long still?" Lunafreya asked.

"About 20 minutes more," Rinoa replied.

"Would you two ladies mind giving me a look?" Ignis asked behind them.

"Oh, no! No at all!" Lunafreya promptly stood straight and nodded at Ignis. Rinoa followed.

Ignis bent over to take a peek at the creme brulees and hummed in approval. "This looks promising."

Rinoa smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

Lunafreya looped an around Rinoa's. "I never doubted you, cousin."

Rinoa giggled. "Thanks, Luna."

Ignis stood up and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Though this isn't exactly the baking I promised to teach you, I realized that your strength is in flourless desserts. We'll start from there and gradually advance toward actual baking until you are a virtuoso in pastry making."

"Yeah, I think that's a good start," Rinoa replied. She looked down her belly that bulged against her apron and patted it. "That's a goodbye to my diet! Heh heh."

"Oh, Rinoa, you are anything but fat," Lunafreya vouched.

"It is only natural for a good pastry chef to gain a few pounds. But, if you are indeed conscious about your–" Ignis cleared his throat. "–weight, might I suggest a more active lifestyle."

"Yeah, I tried that," Rinoa said. "But, my previous job. It's taking too much of my time and energy I barely had any left by the end of the day."

"It's never too late to start now."

Rinoa gave him a half smile. "Yeah. It's not."

Ignis paused and took a moment to gaze at Rinoa. Her hair fell down her shoulder ever so faintly, half-hiding the embarrassment he could read from her face. If a girl like her so fragile fought to seek comfort for herself and not see it, then where else would she get it? His lips parted to say something until his moment was distracted by the shrill ring from his phone. He excused himself and headed out of the kitchen.

After making sure Ignis was out of sight, Rinoa turned to Luna and scrunched her face. "He's cute."

Lunafreya's eyes widened as she stepped back and covered her mouth as if she saw a ghoul.

Rinoa let out a hearty laugh. "What?"

Lunafreya shook her head and pulled her hand down. "It just occurred to me that perhaps I have made the right decision to have you employed in the palace kitchen!"

Rinoa's mouth opened and punched her cousin slightly on her forearm. "Oh, you…"

"Maybe it is time to catch yourself a kind man and steal his heart! I have never imagined the possibility that this man could be Ignis!"

Rinoa rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Nah, I could never steal his heart. I mean, that guy? I bet he already has his eyes set on a sex bomb. I mean, I'm _the_ bomb. As round as a bomb, that is."

Lunafreya took another step back and her eyes traveled all over Rinoa. "You are most certainly not as round as a bomb. What an odd thing to say."

Their banter was interrupted by the alarm from the timer Rinoa set for the dessert. She turned the oven off, wore her rubber mittens, and carefully took the baking pan out of the oven. She placed it on top of the unlit stove to cool it off, and the air was instantly filled with the sweet smell of cream and burnt sugar.

"Well, either way," Rinoa continued. "I need to shed some pounds. I'm keeping this diary to track my weight over time while I maintain a diet. Since taste-testing is part of my career, I have to cut down on some of the other food and make room for the sugar. Maybe salads instead of pasta. Fruits instead of cakes. And I'll try to walk as much as I can to and from the Citadel."

Lunafreya smiled. "If this will make you happy, then I am certainly glad that you have found the inspiration to initiate it. More so if this will make you healthier."

"That's what I want, too. And what I'm expecting to happen," Rinoa replied. "I'm overweight for my height and age. And I want to enjoy life while I'm young. How can I enjoy it if I'm not confident?"

"Are you not positive on how you see yourself?"

"Not right now, no," Rinoa replied. When Lunafreya frowned, she rolled her eyes and held her hand. "I'm okay. I'm fine. And I'm working on it."

Lunafreya forced a smile and nodded. "Then I shall see to it that you will remain happy in your endeavor."

Rinoa shrugged reciprocated a forced smile. Food was at the heart of her life, and taking it away from the life she had always known would change many things. But different could be good. After all, it was different that she wanted for herself.

Another hour later, after realizing that Ignis was probably not coming back for her, Rinoa decided to wrap things up. She, with the help of Lunafreya, had kept the ramekins into the fridge to set it overnight and decided to call it a day. After Rinoa bid Lunafreya goodbye at main hall, she passed by one of the studies where she heard Ignis' voice. She slowed down, careful to make any sound, and took a few steps back as she drew herself closer to the wall.

"One more alleged member of the syndicate was spotted at the train station yesterday," a man with a deep gruff voice said. "This followed the unexplained explosions and damages up the Shinra alley the other day."

"Gunblade wielders?" Noctis asked.

"Yeah. According to our witnesses," the gruff man replied.

"Do we have a name? If this person is not a Lucian, then there's the probability of records," Ignis said.

"If the syndicate was able to get its hands on gunblades, then common sense says they can duplicate fake passes because they are tight with the black market."

"Or they _are_ the black market," Noctis said. After a short silence hung in the air, Noctis shifted on his chair. "Gladio, could you take a look at the records at the station? Confirm the presence of the syndicate? They must have at least pictures, right?"

"Yeah, they should," the gruff man said.

"I don't like how this will turn out," Prompto said.

"None of us does."

"What made you say that?" Noctis asked, his voice almost broke at Prompto's inference.

"I'm seeing a pattern here," Prompto said. "Like, everytime there's a slightest hunch a member of this syndicate is spotted, something bad happens. One possible member spotted, and the next thing you know, explosion comes out of nowhere, people going missing, or worse. Remember what happened in Hammerhead? Now another possible member is spotted. What's next?"

"And we still don't know how to spot them for certain."

The sounds of their voices began to muffle when one of them must have noticed the open door and finally closed it for good. Rinoa didn't realize her heart stopped until she began moving. It wasn't the presence of a syndicate that haunted her thoughts. What was the syndicate? The word itself sounded like a collective trouble, and it would seem that this trouble was infesting the quiet city of Insomnia. No, she was braver and more sensible than that. She was sure it was not something the King or the Prince couldn't handle. It was the sense of loss she read from the Prince's voice that had truly shaken her.

* * *

"Someone's on our tail," Squall muttered as his eyes brisked through the message on his phone.

" _Now_ someone's on our tail?!" Zell grated as panic crossed his face.

Squall coolly pushed his glasses up his nose and slid his phone back into the pocket of his coat. _Does this guy have to panic everytime something bad happens?_

"What? Say something, Leon!"

"Keep your voice down," Squall growled. "Think this through before you react."

"I can't think! I don't know what the hell is going on and how this someone is suddenly on our tail!"

Squall kept his silence and began walking down the shaded alley. It was Quistis who sent the message. Someone from the palace had been tracking the Circle's activity in Insomnia, all thanks to the careless mess the intrusion of Seifer's group had made to their mission. They were supposed to be discreet, invisible at the very best. And now they were anything but that.

"Hey! Wait up!" Zell called back and ran to his side. "Aren't you telling me what's going on?"

"Nothing you should be worried about," Squall replied. "All you need to know is that you are indispensable the moment you signed that application form."

Zell gulped beside him. "A-and how about you?"

Squall shook his head. "I haven't caused anything for this to happen. The Circle will take care of it. We just have to be on our toes."

Zell looked around warily, the first rule of the Circle in his mind. _Never talk about the organization outside the Circle._

_How could this guy defy this so easily?_

When they reached the open streets, Squall returned to his silent self even after Zell's attempts to make small talks.

"So, uh, I start tomorrow at the Citadel, right?" Zell began, which was met with no response.

Squall's gaze remained forward as he lead the way back to the apartment, his mind wandering at the possibility of the Citadel mistaking their mission's cause as damaging. Were they at the right place just because Quistis told them so? Were the Circle's orders really that simple to follow?

"Yo Leon, you suppose this station will bring me to the Citadel?"

Squall blinked and turned to Zell before veering his eyes to the train station.

"I mean, this is Insomnia's main line, right?" Zell said, partly unsure but confident in his familiarity.

Squall blinked a few more times as his eyebrows began to meet.

_The Citadel. The station._

_The Circle._

"Run."

"What's that now?"

He watched the flow of the train's passengers as they went in and out of the station. Of course Zell would be traced back from the station.

Of course.

"RUN."

Squall cursed at himself as he watched more people enter the station. He knew the Circle would take care of it, but the Circle was never graceful about it. They would burn fingerprints or cut tongues if that's what it took to cover their tracks.

Whatever it took.

Should he warn the attendant? If he did, he would be involved in the inevitable investigation at the aftermath. It would compromise him and the mission, and the Circle never took well with compromises.

"Run where?!" Zell was growing apprehensive.

Squall watched as a familiar face walked out of the station's entrance. She stopped midway and turned back around.

"JUST RUN."

Squall began to race for the entrance, just as Zell started sprinting the other way. And he damned himself for not running any faster when he pushed her down just as the fire and the flying debris from the explosion hit him at the back and on his sides. Her scream drowned against the rupturing sound of the blast until he felt his body hit the ground and skid against the cement. The cries and screams that followed were the last things he heard before his head hit something hard and his consciousness had left him.


End file.
